Discord
by Djinni of the Pen
Summary: The insane do not realise their madness. And the evil that they are so. One-shot. Set after series.


**Discord**

The insane do not realise their madness. And the evil that they are so…

Azula sat motionless in her room, a poised statue that exuded patience. The walls showed signs of scorching, blackened stones that did nothing but absorb heat. There was a cot in one corner, bare of sheets and a charred hole in its centre. Her clothes were tattered and singed, doing little to cover her nakedness.

These things she barely noticed; the fits of anger that had caused them, for the time being, passed. Rage was ineffective against the people who held her here. They had simply walked away from her, leaving her with the consequences of her actions; her dignity exposed and having to sleep on the hard stone floor. No, Azula would not use that method again. So she sat and planned once more.

Her room had no windows, now way to tell when it was sun up or sun down or even how long she had been sitting there. The only time piece was her meals, they at least came at regular intervals. She had tried firebending through the slot in the door when they came but that had only resulted in them turning on the coolers and freezing the room until her next meal arrived.

She had been visited once or twice during her time here; only after they had cooled the room, of course. She did her best to intimidate then each time they came but these people seemed completely devoid of fear. Azula hated them for their lack of reaction, their lack of respect for her position. They even went so far as to call her by her given name! She was nothing to them. Nothing but Azula.

The food slot in the door opened and her meal was pushed through. She stared at it, stared through it. Nothing seemed to work against these people. Inside her Azula felt that gnawing feeling begin to grow again, the feeling that broke loose from her occasionally, and mentally stamped down on it. It was a feeling that, until recently, she had never experienced – despair. Lately it had welled up in her until it overflowed. They were momentary bouts only but they worried Azula like nothing ever before. These people were surely taking control of her, inch by inch and for the first time in her life Azula felt powerless to stop them.

A thought suddenly came to her. These people had taken control of her life, yes, but there was something that they could never command over her. The bowl in front of her still steamed with heat. With deliberateness Azula picked it up in her hands. She stared at it for a moment and then suddenly flung the bowl against a wall. The pottery shattered and the hot contents dribbled slowly down into a puddle of mess. Azula smiled at the result.

A tongue clicked in distaste beside her. "You shouldn't waste food so, Azula. You're wasting away as it is."

Azula turned her head and faced her mother kneeling beside her. Her mother always appeared at times like this; when the gnawing in her would grow. She wore the same clothes as the day she left, her face unchanged by time. Azula never wondered how that was so. It just was.

"You know nothing of strategy, Mother," Azula sneered. "Be glad you can see a master of it at work."

Ursa turned steely eyes on her daughter. "I'm not a fool, Azula. I know what you're planning." Her eyes then creased with worry. "And I don't like it."

Azula sniffed and turned her head away. "Save your concern for those that need it, Mother. I know what I'm doing." She stood up and began to pace her tiny room. Ursa remained where she was and watched.

"They may not use my title of Firelord but they know who I am," Azula continued. "They'd dared not let me die. Once they see their so called control over me is nothing but a mirage then they will relinquish and admit defeat." A fire lit in her eyes. "Then they'll beg me to eat. They'll plead. And I'll have won, Mother. I'll have won."

Ursa was silent as she watched her daughter pace like a trapped animal. The lack of response only seemed to push Azula further.

"Yes, yes I'll have won. But why stop there? When they're on their knees begging me for mercy, that's when I'll really show them. Show them what it means to defy me!"

Ursa stirred. "Azula…"

But Azula was caught in her moment of victory. Her triumph over all that dared show no subservience to her, no fear of her. And in the midst of her enrapture she felt the gnawing sensation in her rise higher and higher.

"I'll kill them!" she raged. "Kill each and every one of them! I'll slaughter their families and friends, destroy everything they hold dear!"

"Azula, please…"

"_No!_" she screamed, whirling to face her mother. Ursa's eyes were filled with nothing but pity. Azula hated those eyes. Despair and fury peaked in her like a twin chord. "No, no, no, no! I am the Firelord! The very image of your destruction! I will not be defied! I will not be pitied! I will not be-"

"Loved?" Ursa asked quietly.

The twin chord was struck in her and something broke inside. All the words and visions that she had sitting on the tip of her lips suddenly died away into ash.

Ursa stood slowly, her expression still shaped in the form of pity. "You frighten me sometimes, Azula. You really do."

Ursa moved closer now and Azula backed away, like a cornered animal.

"But you should know, Azula," her mother continued. "That no matter what happens, I love you."

"No…" Azula whispered and pulled back further.

"I will always love you." And Ursa opened her arms to embrace her.

Azula screamed. She raised her arms and blue fire engulfed the room, taking her mother with it. Always it ended like this. Her mother would come, would say that she loved her. And it always ended like this.

Azula continued to scream, the sound joining the blasted fury of the flames. It rose higher and higher, the room filled with the noise of agony, of pain. Of fear and despair.

After what seemed forever the cooling jets turned on and the room suddenly plunged into freezing cold. The walls iced over, the air misted. The mess of her meal that she had made froze into a lump. Azula dropped to the ground, the cold sapping the fury out of her. Her body stiffened, her breathing slowed and her vision began to fog. Inside, though, her mind still roiled over itself.

Standing in front of her, clouded in mist and frigid air, was her mother. Pity filled her eyes, a look that killed with sympathy. Without thinking, Azula reached out a hand towards her. The fog swirled and then Ursa was gone. Azula's hand dropped. Her vision turned black. She was unconscious before her tears could fall.


End file.
